I was badly in need of another board. I scanned Craigslist and eBay as well as checking with my local surf shops. Not really anything but shit out there. The ones that were in great condition must have had a couple of grams of cocaine hidden inside because their prices were near rape levels man.
So I figured I would try posting an ad that my local newspaper’s online site has. It’s free so what the fuck. I’ll try it.
“Wanted: One like new condition or slightly used board. Prefer Lost or Merricks. 6’ 8” to 6’ 11”. Tri fins only. Best price paid for best condition board. Call (XXX) 875-XXXX between 7pm-11pm PST”
I got several calls from everyone and their brother trying to sell me their pieces of shit. I must have had 15 calls in the first hour alone. I had to shut my phone off. The next morning, I turned my phone on and had 8 more messages. But one of those messages was from a younger guy. The guy sounded like he was 12 or so. He said that he’s got a Merrick Dumpster Diver for sale and that it was only used once. No dings. No scratches. Yeah… No shit! He wanted $450 for it and said that he needs cash because he is leaving for UCLA in 3 days. Hot price considering those go for over 6 large.
I called the guy up and we set a meeting up for later that afternoon by the Huntington Pier at 5pm. I’m so fucking stoked now. I can’t believe it. My lucky day!
After running around half the day taking care of the weekend bullshit, I head out about 4:30pm. Huntington is about forty five minutes from me. Fucking late again. I am hauling some ass to get down there. I have my truck running around 85mph down the freeway and I’m still being passed by people. I push a little harder on the pedal. Speedometer is cruising at a hair over 90. I should make the meeting on time now.
Then out of nowhere, a fucking CHP scooter boy is on my ass like a fresh pair of Jockey underwear. I watch in the mirror waiting for him to go around me. Not today dude. Not today! The fucking copper starts to wave me over to the side of the road. Fuck!
He asks me where I am going in such a hurry. I tell him that my sister is at the hospital and has cancer and may be dying right now. The pig said that I passed the hospital exit about 15 miles back. Damn ticket cost is going to cost me $375!
I slowly pull back on to the freeway and only drive 60mph. I call surfboard dude up and tell him that I am running late and to please wait as I am only 20 minutes away. Surfboard said cool he is running late too.
I am now officially going so slowly on the freeway that I am being passed by a funeral procession. I think I am actually going backward in time. I know I have as I see a billboard up announcing that the Doors will be playing at the Hollywood Bowl next weekend. What the hell?
Great, it’s now starting to rain. And not a sprinkle but a fucking downpour. I can almost see the front of my truck. Almost.
All of the sudden I hear a loud blast and my truck starts shaking. NO!!!!!!! Tire blowouts at 60mph are not my fave thing to deal with. Damn the luck! Not my day at all! I work the truck over to the emergency lane. Grab my toolbox out of the bed of the truck. Fuck! I took the toolbox out before I left so it wouldn’t bang the board up. Well shit, I didn’t know I was going to have a flat!
I grab the useless tire changing tools from behind my seat. Note: Whoever invented those scissor jacks that come with most cars and trucks should be castrated for being stupid. Those things are a pain in the ass.
Tire gets fixed and I’m on the move once again. Calling surfboard dude again to let him know that I am running even later than before. He laughs and said no problem. Again.
After 10 minutes of trouble free driving, I remembered one small detail that I didn’t do that morning… Gas the truck up. I don’t even look at the gauge because I know it will be bad news. I can feel it. But I take a peak anyways. Shit. Below E! That is usually a sign that I have enough gas to last about 4 miles. I think. Next exit is 3 miles ahead. No problem right?!?!
Well, glad I don’t get paid to think. I run out of gas in 2 miles and coast for the next quarter mile. Luckily, it has now stopped raining I can see a gas station sign ahead and start walking. As I get closer, I notice that it’s not even open. Fuck!
It is now almost 7pm. I call surfboard dude one more time and beg for him to wait on me. I tell Surfboard dude said that everything and anything bad has happened today. He said that he was sorry and some guy just bought the board for $550 cash. He said that he had called a couple of times and couldn’t reach me.
I’m standing on the side of the Beach boulevard. I look like I have just spent the weekend with Chas Smith on a Tijuana bender. I see some redneck in his truck approaching fast. He hits a puddle that produces a perfect Teahupoo sized barrel. I totally get shacked and am now fucking drenched again. I toss my phone at the back of his passing truck and give him the finger. Fuck it.
~RS
Actually if he agreed to sell it you over the phone you can sue for the cost you were going to pay. It’s illegal to negotiate and agree to a price and agree to sell that item then to turn around and sell it to someone else.
I doubt you will be just be aware of it.